The True Price
by Nalana
Summary: The war is being won at the loss of something Castiel isn't willing to give up. Mandate requires he not move pieces in his favor. But perhaps a third party could provide the chance needed. Knowledge of XXXHolic not needed.


Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or concepts. I'm not making money. So please don't sue!

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He could sense it like an allergy, a tingling burning that threatened to burst and restrain him. They were loosing. The battle had raged on, the seals being obliterated one by one. With each loss spirits were breaking. The fight transformed into something animalistic. The force of His vengeance multiplied and consumed every breath of all of His children. And for every loss they were gaining a little bit of ground.

It had become clear to Castiel that there was no avoiding what was to come. There was only stalling. Within this time they prepared. They trained. They waited for the clash that would determine the fate of this mortal realm and the next. Their confidence grew. But Castiel's spirit was waning.

Yes, they were winning. His brothers' plans were in action now. They felt tainted. Dirty. He gave his brethren the claim to them, as he could not foresee Him truly wanting such a fate even through the angel understood the power of sacrifice. The closer they came he could see how they would win. The brothers would be destroyed, body and soul, and within this action they would secure their fate depending on where the last breath came from.

The thought stirred something within the angel. It was true that angels did not know emotion as the mortals shaped after Him were. That didn't mean they couldn't feel. They felt the strength and power, the very will of their Father. They knew of their task to protect. Their purpose was instinctual. But these feelings had been twisted by his aquantence. His superiors had been completely justified in their evaluation of him. Castiel had long ago begun to feel the seeds of doubt. But these questions had always been about his brothers' intent. It was his belief in the Lord that made him confident that his Grace would remain.

Now, he could feel it fading. He found himself wondering how He could allow even the soul to be destroyed. How could He condemn a hero of His cause, ones who would give up everything for something they never asked to be involved in, to a non-existence worse then purgatory? If he had a heart it would be clenching.

Knowledge was what was truly killing him. Castiel knew that with just a few small changes there might be a chance. That one of them at least could be saved from this fate while His goal was still achieved. Castiel's spirit sank. He knew his charge. If given the chance he would rather purify and save his younger brother's soul then exist at all. Anything else would be worse then forcing him back to hell. Yet, for some reason, Castiel was willing to accept that.

For all his suffering, all Castiel truly wished was that his charge would come out of all of this content. They were asking too much of him, far too much. Even if they must Castiel never felt it was a proper request of any singular soul. All Dean had ever wanted was his brothers' safety and justice for his mother's and all others' wrongful death at the claws of the world's dark forces. These small things would give them that.

Castiel could do nothing. If he were to make any move to help the individual over the cause himself, he would break. He knew his attachments to these mortals. If he took one step directly for their well being he knew he would be unable to stop. He would follow them; protect them, until every glimmer of His grace leaked from him.

He suddenly understood the humans' fixation on miracles and their cherubs in robes that they perceived angels to be. Castiel saw that they were possible. He supposed this was why so very few were given their own guardians. It wasn't because of they were unworthy. They weren't filthy, as Castiel's brothers would insist. It was because angels were weak. Humans could find many purposes in their lives. If angels were given this ability, the balance between the spiritual worlds would be shattered. While their goal was heavenliness encompassed, He knew that godliness could only exist in comparison to sin.

Breaking from his duties, and from the war, the angel wandered the streets of the world in his vessel's form beneath an eerily bright waning moon. He had escaped across the world, away from the battlefield on earth, away from his duties, away from his charge. To be there weighed too heavily on his shoulders. He needed to regain his balance. And so he had retreated to this Asian island wandering the streets aimlessly.

Somehow, though, he felt his steps being guided. Some force, something unaligned to either heaven or hell, seemed to be calling out to him. The angel stopped in front of an elaborate home caught somewhere between eastern and western style. He looked around to see no one. Before him the door opened, beckoning him in.

This place was not natural. It lacked a force of any short. Its aura was one of nothingness. It made Castiel's vessel's skin crawl.

Walking into the doorway he called out. There was no noise. He still knew exactly where to go. He wandered until he came out onto porch overlooking the backyard. To his left an ivory skinned woman with eyes as red as blood curled her fingers around an elegant pipe. He blinked at her. This woman was no human. But she most certainly was no devil. It was clear to him that God's blessing didn't touch her either. His instincts were to confront and eliminate, but something was suppressing those urges.

"Welcome to my shop." The woman said, turning one eye in his direction as smoke curled up around her.

"Pardon the intrusion. This was a fault in my own direction. I should be going." He spoke quickly, trying to will his feet to move. Her eyes kept him in place. Castiel couldn't help but feel like they were locking him into place. He felt that even if he deserted this vessel for his true form she would still be able to keep him here.

"You have a wish." The woman stated. She did not ask. "I can grant it. What is it that you desire?"

Castiel froze. All thoughts of leaving dissipated from his mind. For a moment he dated to hope. There was a feeling of nothingness from this woman. Could an action done by her hand be excusable? Or would be admitting that he was discontent be disobedient in itself? No. Surely the Father knew all. If his thoughts and doubts themselves did not throw him from heaven, speaking them couldn't do any worse.

"Give him what he needs so that he may be content with the outcome and with his own fate." The angel was careful with his words. "If possible…let him be safe." He added with more reluctance.

"There will be a price." She continued, her eyes looking towards the moon. "What you ask is not easily granted."

In a moment of tension breaking a rather spindly young man with a bandana wrapped around his head emerged from around the corner. The boy's grumpy expression switched the moment he saw the angel. Castiel's senses burned at the very sight of the boy. He was nearly as condemned as his charge's brother. He could smell it, the stench of the demonic was only being held at bay because of the area he was standing.

"A visitor?" He asked. Castiel turned to face the woman solely. He couldn't look at the boy.

"I will pay it." His words were firm, his resolution met.

"Watanuki." The woman looked beyond the angel to the boy. "There's a box with the fox's seal in storage. He'll show you it." Castiel looked down to see a curling furry creature come alive form the smoke that pooled out of the ancient smoking implement. It was alive, with ears, and flew to wrap itself around the boy's neck, hugging him tightly.

"I will ask you again, are you sure that you will give the compensation?" The witch dragged his attention back as the boy went to grab the item. "It will not be easy on you. You will not be the same being you are now."

Her words were interrupted by the boy's return. The woman gingerly took the box from him. The pipe fox slithered from the boy onto the woman's hands, disappearing into the lock in front of the scarlet and white container. The top opened to reveal an ornamental hilt. Castiel blinked several times as the woman took it into her palm. As if called to reveal, an ancient protective seal rose up in ghostly traces. Its purity was something long forgotten. It transcended even Castiel's creation. He found himself captivated by its power.

"A third of your Grace." The woman said. " He will become the wielder of this instrument. Should he chose to fight, he will be victorious."

"Victory." Castiel stated, knowing the weight of the woman's words did not mean that he would be the miraculous hero. It did not mean he'd necessarily live. It simply meant that his charge's goals would be met. He couldn't ask for more. But the price…

"You will not be able to hold your position. You will be closer to mortality." She stated blankly. He knew what she meant. He would be precariously close to falling. But what stung, just slightly, was the consequence that would happen because of it.

"I will pay." He reiterated.

The witch nodded, and reached out with one hand. From some divinity he felt his power being called up. A swirl of energy cycloned up. Castiel's eyes went wide as his pure energy of self was drawn form them. The celestial glow twirled and condensed becoming a deep green gem that the woman held delicately between her thumb and forefinger.

Castiel's physical body felt heavier. He had been in it for some time. Normally the pressure to maintain a human form was nothing. Now he felt himself having to concentrate to maintain it. He watched through his new weakness as the woman called forth a little round creature that promptly swallowed the hilt and its ability. Castiel motioned to cry out.

"It is merely being delivered." She reassured him before he could speak. "Now retreat. You wish has been granted." Castiel nodded, feeling himself able to move again. Silently, daring not to contemplate on his actions, he vanished back up into the heavens.

The boy who had retrieved the item looked over to his boss with curiosity. She had a grin splattered across her face. She was never this content. Today she seemed giddy.

"Yuko-san?" He asked inquired.

"It's not every day we get an angel! You should be thrilled, Watanuki." She stated in a very hyper and chipper tone.

"A-a-ANGEL?" Watanuki flailed. "…An angel gave you part of his power?"

"Hmm…yes. For one of his wishes." She stated as she admired the gem as she locked it away in the box the hilt had been in.

"What did he ask for? I mean, aren't angels supposed to be all powerful, needless? What would be worth such a price?"

"His power paid for the artifact. But that is only a means to an end. His true wish was for the happiness of another. Emotions can not be paid for by gifts or power."

"Because the strength of a concern for someone comes in the manner in which it is received and returned?" Watanuki ventured a guess.

"Mmm. Angels are not like you, like your demons, or even the spirits who like you so. They can't realize what they feel. They don't acknowledge what they fear or what they love. His price is not his power, but the consequences of loosing that filter. That is why his true wish granted was for the protection given to the wielder of the weapon."

"I…I don't understand." Watanuki admitted.

"He was protecting someone important, someone special. With the weight such questions that person will bring to him finally measurable he will be unfit to resume his duties. He will have to leave all involvement with them to someone else. To do otherwise would only chance fighting against his wish.

Watanuki fell into silence. So did Yuuko. The air around them became stale. The desperation and sadness hovered heavily. Somewhere, they could feel a heart breaking.


End file.
